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The bubblegum cards must have been a buzz. At first, photographs from '54 show a young man intent on reinventing himself. He's going to break out of that cycle of poverty which might just condemn him to a lifetime of low rent housing and succession of odd jobs. The playful way he wore those hustler's threads was to shake global culture. The way he sang was to set a series of events which would have the most far-reaching consequences for society than anything since the Renaissance. By the time Elvis moved the family out of 1034 Audobon drive things were beginning to really get out of hand. Although I've stood on the other side of those famous Graceland gates, it took a photograph to bring home to me something of the man's great isolation. William Eggleston is a gifted southern photographer renowned as much for his eccentricities as his powerful colour snaps. One of his photo's, taken from the driveway of Graceland through closed gates, shows a strip of gaudily illuminated shops across the road. Explosions of colour destroy the symmetry of that wrought- iron landmark. It's quite shocking. I'd seen those shops before. I'd examined those souvenirs. Everything from key rings to Mexican paintings on velvet of Elvis. But I'd never imagined what it must have been like to live across the road from a warren of stores selling images of myself. I never hazarded a guess at how it must of felt to have a world outside my door which venerated me for simply having fun. When we laid siege to his gates we were in effect condemning Elvis to a life sentence on a death row of loneliness. On His Hand In Mine, Elvis sang, "Who am I?" We tried to find an answer in bric-a-brac. Glow-in-the-dark Elvis figurines, Elvis decanters which behead his memory every time we want a drink, wine bottle Elvis's, and even Elvis underwear.
Would
it be different if we had a second chance?.
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